91

No one spoke on the way back.

They were too exhausted and still unsure if they had come away with any actionable intelligence. They had, however, taken out a member of the Troika. And everyone agreed that even if Jenny hadn’t shot Ruzami dead, a man like that was never going to talk. If there was anything of value in that compound, it was in the computers and phones they’d grabbed, not the one prisoner they’d taken alive. He was just a bodyguard. A small fish. The big fish had, once again, slipped their grasp.

The colonel drove the lead jeep. Marcus sat beside him, cleaning his weapons. Noah was in the back, uploading the contents of one laptop after another to the Global Ops Center. Jenny was back there too, sending updates to Dell and Annie at Langley via a series of encrypted text messages.

Geoff drove the second jeep. Pete sat beside him. Callaghan rode in the backseat, weapon at the ready, keeping a close eye on their prisoner, bound, gagged, drugged, and lying on the floor, covered in blankets.

Marcus popped a new magazine into his Kalashnikov. It wasn’t ideal to be driving across Yemen in the bright light of day. Yes, the two Predators were still watching over them. But neither had more missiles. If they got in trouble, they were on their own.

Moreover, it was approaching noon. The sun was at its peak. They had no AC, and the air was a blast furnace. Marcus could barely breathe. He and his team were drenched with sweat. The bottles of water they had bought were so hot now they were undrinkable. And it would be hours, he knew, before they were back in Jeddah, and nightfall by the time they were in the air, headed for home.

✭

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Dell rose as the president entered the Situation Room.

Hernandez greeted her, as did Bill McDermott, who entered right behind him.

“Please, Martha, take a seat,” Hernandez said, taking his own at the head of the conference table. “How did it go?”

“Depends how you look at it, Mr. President,” she replied, donning a pair of reading glasses and reviewing her notes. “They killed nine tangos, including one of the deputy commanders of Kairos.”

“Which one?”

“Badr Hassan al-Ruzami.”

“The chief of operations?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s fantastic,” Hernandez said.

“I would have preferred him alive.”

“Ruzami? Come on, Martha. You know he’d never talk. Marcus and his team just saved the American taxpayers a boatload of money and no small amount of grief.”

“Hope you’re right, sir.”

“Did they get any prisoners?”

“One.”

“Is he talking?”

“Not yet.”

“Are they bringing him home?”

“I told Marcus to leave him with the Saudis,” Dell said. “We think he was a bodyguard for Ruzami, not anyone senior. But if there is anyone who can get the guy to talk, it’s the Saudis.”

“Any loot?” McDermott asked.

“Lots of it, actually,” Dell replied.

“And?”

“Too early to say. The team uploaded everything in the computer hard drives and satphones to us. I’ve got a task force poring over it all now. Everything is encrypted. It’s going to take some time for us to get in and see what we have.”

“But you’re confident you can do it?”

Martha hedged. “Fifty-fifty.”

It was not the answer the president wanted to hear.